


We are a part of each other

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Series, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, book canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 06:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12451727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: ""Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." - Emily Bronte.Or the one where Ghost bonds with Sansa and Jon and brings them together.Response to Day 1 soulmate prompt in Jonsa Week.





	We are a part of each other

Sansa awoke with a start, the taste of blood still on her tongue.

It took a moment for her to recognise her surroundings, the dim candlelight illuminating her chambers as she tried to make sense of her dream.

It had felt strange, almost like she was in another body. She had been having these dreams for the past couple of nights, although she still didn’t understand them. She had seen a deer this time, had smelt it on the wind and had felt the urge to kill it and eat it. She remembered the feeling of snow beneath her feet, but it had felt different, more intense than when her own skin felt the cold.

Winter was almost over now; the snow was melting slowly and the Starks were in Winterfell once more. The Knights of the Vale had helped Stannis defeat the Boltons and reclaim Winterfell in her name, although it had made a widow of her when Harry had been killed by a stray arrow. Shortly after their victory Davos had brought Rickon back from Skagos with Shaggydog by his side. Bran had arrived soon after, Summer following him, an ever-faithful promise. Arya was the last to arrive, leading a whole pack of wolves as though they could replace the wolves of her own family. Sansa had felt equal parts relief at the sight of her siblings, alive and well after everything that had happened but also despair.

For they all still had their wolves and Lady was long gone.

“She is buried in Winterfell though. She is here because this is where you both belong,” Bran had told her to ease her sadness. Sansa had managed a small smile but she ached for the companionship again. She missed her sweet and gentle Lady terribly sometimes, especially in the cold nights.

Jon had come to Winterfell too, having abandoned the Nights Watch after his brothers had betrayed him. Their pack was whole again, the time for wolves had come. And Sansa had been determined to bring them together again. She had apologised to Jon and Arya for her behaviour as a child. Jon had told her it didn’t matter anymore and that he was as much to blame for their distance as children. Arya had begged her pardons like a proper lady, causing Sansa to laugh for the first time in what felt like forever. She and Arya had spoken one evening talking about what had happened since Father had died and Arya swore to her that if she wanted Baelish gone, she would get rid of him for her, one way or another. While Sansa was in awe of Arya’s skills and grateful she was wanting to avenge their dead family, and protect what was left, she worried it would destroy what was left of her sister’s humanity.

Bran had revealed Jon’s parentage not long after Jon returned to them. Jon had disappeared into the Crypts, refusing to speak to anyone, even Arya who had insisted that it didn’t matter to her. Rickon had screamed in confusion, causing Shaggydog to howl in unison. Summer had paced restlessly around Bran, as if thinking his master was getting blamed for this chaos.

Ghost had been as silent as always, even when he appeared in her doorway, it was only the shadow across the floor that had alerted her to his presence. She had looked at him, his red eyes staring at her and Sansa had felt a connection with him that she had not felt in so long, not since Lady. He had turned then, slowly walking on silent paws and she had followed him, straight down to the crypts where his master was kneeling by the statues of his uncle and his mother. Jon’s head was in his hands and when he looked up, his eyes were red. He had harshly tried to rub them, to hide his grief from her. Ghost had sat beside him and when he looked over Jon’s shoulder at her, she had acted on instinct, placing her hands on his shoulders for a brief moment to alert him of her sudden presence behind him. A hand curled into his hair, the other moving to the back of his neck and she had pulled him to her, allowing him to sob into her skirts while she hummed in sympathy. Ghost moved beside them, curling his body so his head was behind Sansa and his tail resting across Jon’s feet. The three of them joined as one in the moment of grief and acceptance.

Jon was on his way back to Winterfell now, having defeated the White Walkers with the help of his Aunt’s dragons. She had offered for him to take one but Jon had refused, claiming that Ghost was all the companion he needed. He was of the North and he would stay in the North. Winterfell was as much his home as it was hers and Arya’s and Bran’s and Rickon’s.

Once again, she wished that Lady was with her. The loneliness of having no wolf, no companion and no deep connection to something had been eating away at her since she had returned home. Ghost had been keeping her company sometimes, more than his littermates did. Sometimes, she even woke to find he had pushed her chamber doors open and was sleeping by her fire. She had once asked Jon why Ghost would come to her and not stay with him. Jon had given a small shrug, glancing at his wolf before offering a simple “maybe he knows you need him as much as I.”

But she had still found it strange to find Ghost following her through the halls almost as often as he followed Jon. Surely Ghost being Jon’s wolf would have the least reason to come to her. She and Jon had never been close and while they had spoken often since they had reunited, she didn’t think their bond was anything remarkable. More often than not, it had been a case of talking about what to do about threat in the North and the inevitable fight between Daenerys’ and Stannis’ claims for the throne that would follow.

In truth, Rickon was Robb’s heir, since Bran had removed himself from the line of succession, and was named King in the North by the Northern Lords. But being so young, he needed a regent. Sansa had originally been selected based upon being Rickon’s eldest, true-born sibling but that would mean the succession of inheriting Winterfell fell to Arya and being Lady of Winterfell was something her sister point blank refused to take on. So, Sansa had suggested to the Northern Lords that Jon be made King Regent, much to their surprise and to Jon’s horror.

“It belongs to you,” he had said. “I told Stannis as much every time he offered me Winterfell!”

His words had warmed her heart more than he could ever know. For so long, men had wanted her for her claim alone, even Harry, for all his declarations of love, had only really began to warm to her once he knew she was Sansa Stark and not Alayne Stone.

“You kept your word,” she had replied. “Winterfell is mine. The North though, it belongs to us all.”

They used mother and father’s rooms for discussions often talking through ideas over ale, although she always preferred the taste of wine she would have to make do with what they had. Arya had given them a sideways glance when they first told the three other Starks their intentions for their parents’ chambers over dinner, her lips forming a thin line as though she had wanted to say something but had thought better of it. Rickon had been too engrossed in feeding Shaggydog under the table to really show much interest and he barely remembered his parents to really feel as though Jon and Sansa were taking something away. Bran had simply smiled as though he had known this was going to happen. Sansa supposed he probably had known, from what little she knew of his powers.

It had been nice though. The easy companionship with Jon as they talked about their home and their country, their combined strengths and qualities granting quick and natural solutions to the problems being presented. They were united on issues without ever really needing to discuss it, they held the same values and the same goals in the long run and while they had different approaches, their talks often led to an easy compromise.

Ghost often lay by the fire or curled around Sansa’s feet if she was sewing her siblings’ clothing. When she had given Jon a cloak as close to her Father’s as she could recall, he had looked at her with such wide eyes she had thought he was offended and had lowered her eyes to hide her shame.

“It’s amazing Sansa, truly it is,” he had said quickly, kneeling before her chair and taking her hand. Ghost’s ears twitched, his eyes opening slowly to watch them. “But I am not a Stark.”

Sansa had sniffed then, looking up at him.

“You are to me,” she had said fiercely as Ghost rose to nudge his head against their entwined hands.

Now she lay her head back down on her pillow, thinking of how sweet it would be to see Jon and Ghost again, just like she had wished all that time ago when she was in the Vale. Her eyes drifted shut again.

***

It was two nights later when Jon returned.

She had known he was there before she truly woke. She had seen him ride to the gates of Winterfell, had even felt him within her dreams, his wish to back to Winterfell, to his family and to her. When her eyes opened this time, she looked to where Jon stood in the doorway, having just opened the door to her chambers, Ghost by his side.

She realised now what her dreams had meant, what had been happening. She had been inside Ghost’s head, had felt such a deep connection to him that she thought she would never feel since Lady was gone. And Jon, sometimes she had felt him in Ghost’s skin too, his heartbeat as loud as her own in her ears and she would think only of how much she missed him.

She moved to sit up but still he didn’t move. He was looking at her as though seeing her for the first time, his hand still gripping the doorknob. Ghost brushed against his side as he walked past, coming to the side of the bed where Sansa could reach over to scratch behind his ears.

“I felt you,” Jon said eventually, watching her ruffle Ghost’s fur. She smiled softly.

“As I felt you,” she replied, finally looking at him again.

“Sansa.”

Her name had never sounded so beautiful as when Jon whispered it then. It was different to the way he spoke with Arya, this tone held a softness to it, like a lover’s caress. And Sansa knew then, that Ghost had known all along of her need for a companion, had felt the same need in Jon. The need to be loved and accepted and Ghost had known that only Jon and Sansa could fulfil what the other needed so desperately in a partner.

“Sansa,” he whispered again, finally closing the door and crossing to her bed. She rose to meet him, their movements so in sync as they embraced each other. She rubbed her cheek against his own as his hand buried itself in her hair, pulling her so close she felt she would become a part of him.

_You already are. You are a part of each other._

Jon was everything she had thought was gone from the world. A hero who had cut the head from Janos Slynt, a hero who had saved the whole world. And he was brave and gentle and strong. And he loved her, she had felt it in Ghost’s skin. It was her he had thought of the most, she had known it as much as she knew how much she wanted him. In the years to come, there would be songs about Jon and his bravery, she had no doubt. Already he was being called the song of ice and fire, a son of a dragon and a wolf. She kissed his brow, his cheek and finally his lips.

“You are my greatest song,” she whispered against him. Jon smiled, his eyes crinkling at her before he kissed her again. And again. And again.

Perhaps there would be songs of her too, she thought as Jon embraced her again. Songs about the girl who had brought the wolves back to the North, the girl who became a Queen after all, against the odds.

Whatever people wrote or believed about them, Sansa didn’t really care. She only knew that Jon was everything she had wanted as a girl and everything she needed as a woman. And she knew that Jon needed her too. No matter how far apart they are from each other, their bond was sealed and they shared Ghost’s skin like twin spirits, a part of each other, always.

Perhaps it was destiny, she managed to think as Jon kissed her again, still so gently, like he was worshipping her. Perhaps destiny meant for Lady to go for she would never have formed a connection with Ghost if Lady were alive. She would never have known how it felt to be connected like this. Yes, perhaps it was destiny that would always bring her and Jon together.

And love, that played its part too.


End file.
